Dreams
by AngelOfMusic387
Summary: Christine and Erik fluff. Two part one shot. Rating for second chapter content.
1. Chapter 1

This is just a random bit of fluff that I wrote becauseI wanted to write an E/C story. It will be two parts, no more. Hopefully, this will placate the readers of my other story, Not An Angel, Just Erik. I realize that many of you were disappointed that it will not be E/C.

Erik's looks are heavily based on Leroux and Kay's version, but his personality and such are bits and pieces of a few different versions of Erik. The mask covers all but his lips and chin, which are only mildly deformed.

Okay, enough rambling... on to the story!

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Christine crept down to Erik's lair. She knew that she shouldn't be here at this hour of the night; not only was it highly improper, but Erik had strictly told her to only come down when he invited her. She was sure, though, that he would make an exception in this case. The poor girl had just woken up from a horrid nightmare involving him being killed by an angry mob. She was certain that she would not be able to fall asleep unless she was convinced that her angel was safe, even if that meant staying the night at his side, down in the catacombs of the Opera. It wasn't as if she had not done it before.

Once she reached his lair, Christine was glad that she knew the route that didn't involve the lake. As she made her way to the big sofa by the fireplace, she happened to glance over at the organ. What she beheld made her grin. Erik must have fallen asleep while composing, because he was lying with his head in his arms on his beautiful instrument, hair tousled and shirt askew. The shirt was fully unbuttoned, and it showed a great deal of his chest and abs, bringing a rosy blush to her cheeks. Against her better judgment, she walked over to him, just to wake him up from the uncomfortable looking position. Unfortunately, she wasn't paying attention to where she was going. She tripped over a box of books and tumbled to the stone ground with a cry, hitting her head on the table.

Erik awoke instantly, a bit disoriented. Jumping to his feet, he saw Christine on the floor, rubbing her head. Panic swept through him as he realized that she was bleeding.

"Christine, what happened?" he asked, concerned and a bit annoyed as he rushed over to her. She knew that she wasn't supposed to be here, yet here she was!

"I tripped and hit my head… It is just a little cut; I will be fine," she replied sheepishly.

Erik sighed. "Come with me. Your cut must be treated."

Christine nodded and accepted his outstretched hand, feeling a bit dizzy as she stood. As she leaned on Erik's arm for support, she sensed that he was upset with her, and she was well aware that she deserved it.

Erik fetched a bandage, some water in a bowl, and a small washcloth before motioning for Christine to sit on the sofa. As he tenderly patted the wound, an obvious question entered his mind.

"Why are you down here, Christine? I believe that I said that you could come here by my invitation only." She looked into his compassionate yet slightly annoyed golden-green eyes with her big brown ones and sighed, a small smile on her face.

"It seems silly now. I had a dreadful nightmare about you getting hurt, and I had to come down to assure myself that you were unharmed." The nightmare, though nothing but a dream, still frightened her.

Erik could see the fear in her eyes. He was used to the look, but this was different. She wasn't afraid of _him_, just a dream.

"Do not be afraid, mon ange. Nightmares cannot hurt anyone, nor can they come true," he reassured her as he finished cleaning and bandaging her injury. In an impulsive gesture that surprised them both, he gently brushed his lips across her forehead. Christine closed her eyes and shuddered, and Erik looked away, saddened by her obvious disgust of him.

At the small contact of Erik's lips on her skin, Christine felt a pleasant shiver travel down her spine. When she opened her eyes, however, Erik was looking away from her, and he had one of the most dejected looks she had ever seen upon his face.

"Erik, what is the matter?" she asked, concerned.

"Do you have to ask?" he asked bitterly. "You cannot bear to feel any part of my wretched face on your body. I felt you shudder."

"That wasn't a shudder of revulsion. It was one of… joy." She couldn't bring herself to use the word pleasure.

"Do not lie to spare my feelings. I am used fear and repulsion, but pity is something that I cannot tolerate."

"Erik…"

"Christine, don't. You should be getting back to your room. It is late." Christine could see that Erik was turning to his façade of the Phantom, and she wanted to do anything to prevent it. She had grown to care very deeply for Erik, but she hated when he hid behind the image of the emotionless specter that haunted the Opera House. Not knowing what else to do, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. It was a risky move, and he probably didn't even care for her in that way.

Erik was stunned. Christine, his Christine, was kissing him as if they were lovers. Before he realized what was happening, he had his hands on her waist and was kissing her in return, albeit somewhat awkwardly. It ended as quickly as it began.

"Oh, I am sorry!" Christine exclaimed. "I don't know what I was thinking. I just---"

Erik silenced her with another kiss, this one gentle, loving. She fit perfectly in his embrace and against his lips. Her lips tasted sweet, like honey. He was lost in the sensations that were coursing through his body, feelings of desire, lust, and love clouding his judgment. By a will of its own, one of his hands traveled up to bury itself in Christine's soft brown hair. Her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.

They seemed to be relying heavily on instinct, since neither of them had ever kissed anyone so seriously before. As Christine's small, pink tongue darted out to explore Erik's thin lips, he pulled back with a gasp.

"Christine, what…? I mean…" The usually articulate Erik was at a loss for words. Only one small sentence seemed to be able to force its way past his lips.

"I love you," he whispered, very apologetic and almost ashamed. He bowed his head, dreading the response that she would give him. Kiss or no kiss, she couldn't love him. No one could love a creature like him. It had been proven more times than he cared to remember.

Christine was at a loss for words. All she could do was smile dumbly as her brain processed what Erik had just said. _'I love you.'_ She hadn't heard those words directed at her since her father died. She was filled with a giddy feeling that suddenly made her laugh joyfully and hug Erik tightly.

"I love you, too," she said through her laughter. Erik's eyes widened in shock. She loved him. _Him_! The deformed monster who couldn't even earn the love of his own mother. He had to have heard her wrong. Either that or she was saying it out of pity.

"Christine, do not play games with me. I need to know the truth. If you are merely saying what you said out of pity or despite your true feelings, please tell me now and just leave."

"I do love you. How could I not? You have captured my heart with your songs and your caring words. To me, you are a better man than most of the men I have ever known. You must believe me," she pleaded, searching his eyes desperately.

"Do you blame me for doubting you, Christine? No one has ever spoken those words to me. Not even my mother. Oh, but she told me that she hated me well enough. I ruined her life. I have never been treated with kindness, except by you and Madame Giry, and you two baffle me. Why should you love me and care for me when no one else ever has?" He turned away from her as hot tears started to well up in his eyes.

"Erik…" How did one respond to something like that? Not knowing what to say, she just wrapped her arms around him and rested her head on his back. She could feel his shoulders rise and fall shakily, and she knew that he was trying to hold back his sobs. She felt so badly for him, but what could make him forget so many years of pain and suffering?

"Would you like me to stay here with you tonight?" she asked quietly, all thoughts of propriety tucked away out of conscious thought.

Erik hesitated before answering. Of course he wanted her to stay, but he knew that she might regret it, even if they did not do anything improper. He knew that Christine might think that sleeping together in the same room, much less the same bed, would be scandalous and highly immoral. But she had offered…

"I would like that," he said, his voice hoarse from his shed and unshed tears. Christine nodded, and Erik stood up, offering his hand to help her up. She accepted, and did not let go when she was on her feet; instead, she interlaced her fingers with his, a smile on her face. He forced himself to smile back.

He led her to the room that he had built for her, not daring to show her the coffin in which he slept. She sat down on the bed and looked at him expectantly.

"Are you going to stay in here with me?" she asked innocently. Erik took a deep breath and let it out slowly and silently.

"If you would like me to. As long as you do not find it to be improper." His voice was surprisingly even, but his eyes held a hopefulness that he could not hide.

"I do not find it improper to comfort you. If I can make you forget your suffering even for one night, I am willing to do anything."

"Anything, Christine?" he asked, giving her a small, amused smile. She had no idea what she had just implied. His smile turned into a slight chuckle when she blushed.

"Well, almost anything. Don't laugh at me!" she ordered, pouting. That only caused Erik to laugh more.

"I am very sorry. I did not intend to offend you," he told her as he sat next to her, placing his hand behind her head. Then he drew her into a kiss that was slow and deep and sweet. Erik marveled at the fact that Christine was so willing to kiss his malformed lips. In fact, she seemed to enjoy kissing him as much as he was finding that he enjoyed kissing her. This was all he had ever wanted; to be loved by a woman. A new feeling of contentment and happiness was slowly replacing his resentment toward the world. After all, if Christine loved him, what else mattered?

Erik gently pushed Christine down and followed her so that they were both lying down on the bed, never breaking the kiss. This time, he was the one to tentatively meet Christine's lips with his tongue. Her lips parted, allowing their tongues to meet for the first time. Erik moaned softly at the contact. He had never imagined that kissing could be so enjoyable. If he were to die at this very moment, he would die very content and happy.

Christine was enjoying herself as well. She was quickly realizing that, like everything else that Erik did, he was very skilled at kissing, even though he was not very experienced. She had never really thought about kissing with one's tongue, but it definitely wasn't something that she objected to. She shifted so that their bodies were pressed more tightly against one another. Though she wanted nothing more than to kiss him all night, Christine knew that she had to be up early tomorrow. She pulled back so that she and Erik were forehead to forehead. They were both a little out of breath.

"We should get some rest. I have to be at rehearsal tomorrow." Erik's face visibly fell.

"Perhaps you should not stay tonight. It is possible that you will miss rehearsal, and that would not be good."

"Madame Giry will understand if I am late or missing. Perhaps I shall miss the entire rehearsal. It will be for a good cause, and I do need to practice my singing," she said with a smirk. "My music teacher expects so much out of my voice, and I think that my performance has been slipping as of late. I do believe that I will ask him if I may have an all-day lesson tomorrow."

"Absolutely not," he said sternly, a small grin adorning his lips. "You will go to your dance rehearsal tomorrow, or Antoinette will surely have my head. We shall have our rehearsal tomorrow as scheduled, and not a moment sooner." Christine rolled over, pretending to pout. Erik laughed and pulled her against his chest.

"You may stay here tomorrow night if you wish."

"I'd like that," she said sleepily. "Erik, will you sing to me?"

"Of course. What would you like to hear?"

"Your voice. I love you, Erik."

"I love you too, mon ange," he said tenderly, placing a kiss on her cheek. Then he started to sing a song that he had composed for her a few months back. She sighed contently before her breathing became slow and deep. When he had finished the song, he lay awake, simply enjoying the feeling of Christine lying in his arms.

He pulled her closer and rested his head on hers before drifting off to sleep. For the first time in months, his dreams were pleasant and he was truly happy.

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A/N- Aww! I love happy stories. I had to get this out of my system since my other story is so depressing sometimes.

Your ever-obedient author,

AngelOfMusic387


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Four months passed, and Erik and Christine became very close. They would see each other as often as possible, though it was difficult. They had to keep their relationship a secret, and it was getting decidedly harder for Christine to slip away in the night to sleep by Erik's side and in the day just to see him. The other members of the ballet corps were starting to suspect that she had taken a lover, and would tease her about it. Christine would just deny that she had given herself away, since she technically had not, at least how they meant it. She just went about her business as if nothing had been said.

As she descended the stairs of the labyrinthine passageways, she smiled as passionate violin music floated delicately into her ears. Erik would never do anything half way. He always put his entire soul into his music, and anyone could hear that from the way he skillfully drew the best, richest sound out of any instrument that was placed in the care of his talented hands.

Christine entered Erik's home to find him with his eyes closed, swaying in time to the music that was flowing from the beautifully crafted instrument. She did not disturb him, rather, she sat on a big armchair by the fireplace, watching her musical genius with awe and adoration. His song was sad, but strangely comforting. Eventually, the music lulled her into a warm, comfortable, half-asleep state. She only vaguely noticed when the music ceased altogether.

"Christine, when did you arrive?" Erik asked when he had opened his eyes. It always amazed him how absorbed he could become in his music. It was almost as if the rest of the world ceased to exist. Christine only murmured a sleepy "hmm?" so he walked over and placed a soft kiss on her lips. That woke her up instantly.

"Are you tired, mon chere?" Erik asked affectionately.

"Just a little. It was your music that put me to sleep." Her eyes widened and she placed her hand over her mouth, realizing the ways in which he could take what she had just said. "Not that it was boring," she said, trying to hide a smile. "I didn't mean it that way."

"Didn't you?" he asked, feigning annoyance. "I think that you did. I believe that you should be punished for that statement."

"Punished?" she asked, her smile leaving her face.

"Yes. I do not think that I will sing for you tonight. I think that I will just go to bed, and you may read if you wish."

"Erik…"

"No, Christine. If my music is that dull, I do not see any reason to sing for you." His tone was very serious, but his eyes were sparkling with laughter.

Christine saw the look in his eyes, and her smile returned. She stood up and sauntered over to Erik, whose eyes widened at the look on her face.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing," she said saucily, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his waist. She kissed his cheek and ran her hands up and down his back. "Please Erik, sing for me," she whispered, looking at him through half-closed eyes.

Erik swallowed hard. Christine had never acted like this before. He felt himself reacting to her touch and to her words. He had always managed to keep himself in check when he was around her, but his resolve had been weakening as of late. Her casual touches and innocent caresses were becoming more bold, and her touch now was anything but casual or innocent.

"Christine…" he murmured before leaning down and capturing her lips in a slow, passionate kiss. His hands settled on her waist, pulling her as close to himself as possible. All thoughts escaped his mind save the feeling of Christine in his arms. Her arms snaked around his neck and deepened the kiss considerably. Erik reveled in the low, sensuous moans that emitted from her throat. It still amazed him that he could cause her to produce such sounds. Actually, it still amazed him that she was here with him at all.

Christine was in heaven… or something relatively close. She loved the feeling of her lips against his. There really was no better feeling. Well, there was if she believed what some of the other chorus girls and dancers told her. But that sounded a bit scary, not pleasurable.

That wouldn't stop her from having a bit of fun, though.

Going on instinct and gossip, Christine left the bliss of Erik's lips to trail kisses along his jaw line and down to his neck. She felt him draw in a sharp breath at the contact of her lips on his neck and pull away.

"That is not a good idea," he said huskily. She looked up to see his eyes clouded with desire. It was not the first time that she had seen the look in his very expressive eyes. "Besides," he said with a smirk, "you are being punished. You are not allowed to take advantage of me."

"Take advantage of you?" she asked innocently. "I would not think of doing such a thing." Her wide-eyed look made him laugh.

"Christine, we both know what you were doing. But I still will not sing for you."

"I…" She did not know what to say, so she just pouted. Erik laughed and ran his thumb over her protruding lower lip.

"As endearing as you look, mon ange, pouting is not very becoming." But very appropriate for kissing, he thought, bringing his lips to hers once more.

This time, he was the one to deepen the kiss, semi-consciously walking them toward the sofa. When they got there, Erik sat down on the couch, pulling Christine down onto his lap without breaking the kiss. When he slipped his tongue into her mouth, he was rewarded with another moan. He loved that sound. She somehow managed to make that single sound so very musical and beautiful, yet erotic at the same time.

Christine leaned toward Erik, eliminating all space between them. Letting instinct guide her, she pushed him down so that she was lying on top of him, practically straddling him and never breaking the kiss.

Erik's eyes sprung open as another part of him sprung to attention. She had no idea what she was doing to him. The right thing to do now would be to stop this before it got any further, but he didn't. Kissing wouldn't do any harm, right?

Christine was in a state of bliss kissing Erik… except for the fact that that troublesome mask kept squishing her nose. She had put up with it for four months, mostly because she didn't want to cause trouble, and she knew how touchy he was about people even asking about it, but it was really getting annoying. Maybe if she just took it off while they were kissing, he wouldn't notice. She knew that whatever his face looked like, she wouldn't care, because she loved him for him, not his face. He just needed to realize that.

She slowly brought her hands up into his hair, reaching for the ribbon that kept his mask in place and untying it. Then she slid her hands to the sides of his face, still kissing him deeply, and slowly started to remove the mask.

Erik felt something sliding on his face, but it didn't register what was happening until it was too late.

"Damn it, Christine!" Erik yelled suddenly, sitting up and sending her -and his mask- tumbling unceremoniously to the floor. Keeping his face from her view, he quickly got up and left, leaving a stunned Christine behind. He slammed to door to his room, locked it, and slid down against it until he was sitting on the floor.

How dare she take his mask off? She didn't even ask first. Not that he would have let her do it anyways, but still. Now that she had caught a glimpse of his horrid face, she would never want to come near him again. The thought saddened him greatly. To lose all that he had gained would kill him. He could never be truly happy, and on the few occasions that he got close, he paid for it dearly.

A knock on the door startled him. Why had she not left yet?

"Erik, please let me in," Christine called through the door. Her voice sounded strained, as if she was holding back tears-- or fear.

"Why?" he responded bitterly. "You had your look at my face, so now you can leave me alone. Do not stay despite your fear."

"I love you, you know that. Part of loving someone is loving their flaws, internal and external. I do not fear you, and I never could."

He shook his head at her statement, getting angry with her. She had no idea what she was telling him-- or what she was really getting herself into if she spoke the truth. He stood up and opened the door, fighting the urge to hide his face from the woman he loved.

"Can you honestly look at my face and tell me that you love me, Christine? That you do not fear what I am?" he hissed quietly. He couldn't bear to look at her, so he directed his gaze at the floor, pretending that he found it very interesting.

"And what exactly are you, Erik?" Christine asked gently.

"I am a monster, a freak. I am not worthy of love. I am only fit to be in a gypsy's freak show. I am one to be feared. I am the horrid Opera Ghost who is so hideous that he must live in isolation below the opera house and make his living scaring others into submission. Take your pick; I could go on for a while," he growled, his voice bitter and sarcastic.

"Oh, Erik," Christine whispered, stepping closer to him and placing her hand on his face. He looked up sharply, meeting her sorrowful gaze. She smiled before drawing his head down and kissing him. He pulled back almost instantly.

"Don't," he said sharply, backing away, though all of his instincts told him to hold her tight and never let go.

"Do you know what I see?" she asked him quietly, sounding a bit hurt by his multiple rejections. "I see a great musician who has been misjudged due to a cruel twist of fate. I see a kind, compassionate man who I adore. I see a man who deserves all the love in the world and more."

Without another word, she embraced him, holding on for dear life. Erik was speechless. She honestly did not seem to care what he looked like. She was looking at him without fear.

"I love you so much," Erik whispered, burying his face into her hair. He was choking back sobs, and Christine noticed, rubbing his back and making comforting noises.

"Shh. It's okay. I'm here," she whispered.

She gently untangled herself from his arms and led him back to the couch, where they both sat. Erik curled himself back into the comfort of Christine's embrace, feeling strangely at ease. He had never before experienced complete and total love from another person, but he felt engulfed in it now. He knew now, more than ever, that Christine truly loved him for who he was. Not a monster, not an angel, just an ordinary man.

He lifted his head to capture her lips in a tender, loving kiss. There was no hurried passion, just the comfort of knowing that they would always be there for each other.

Erik gathered Christine in his arms and stood up, breaking their kiss only for a few seconds. Then he walked into Christine's room and lovingly placed her in the bed, climbing in beside her.

"I don't deserve you," he muttered, his voice rough and hoarse from tears unshed. "You are an angel on Earth compared to me." Christine turned and wrapped her arms around him, laying her head on his chest.

"Shh. Don't say things against yourself. I am no more an angel than you are, Monsieur 'Ange de Musique.'" She lifted her head and smiled at him, caressing the corner of his mouth with her thumb until he gave her a small smile. "I love you," she said, kissing him softly.

"I love you too," he murmured against her mouth. They kissed slowly, enjoying each other's closeness. Then they lay together, finally falling asleep in the other's embrace. Each of them felt content and safe, and most importantly of all, completely loved.

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_"La leçon la plus importante à apprendre est aimer quelqu'un et pour gagner leur amour dans retour."_

"The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return."

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